Reclaiming the White Stars
by ImpossibleImpact
Summary: Steve Rogers is on the run. The US government's turning over every rock and taking into custody any and all Hydra/S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and Captain America is at the top of the list. But when he stumbles upon Cassie Roberts, a well-informed runaway who's just as entangled in Hydra's mess as he is, she may just be the help he needs to clean up Hydra and reclaim S.H.I.E.L.D's innocense


**hey hey hey!**

**so my other followers are going to kill me for doing this, but I spent the time I should've been using to update my other two stories to mess around with this plot. And so here's my thoughts: I'm not looking to continue this, but if I get enough fav's I just might reconsider. So the continuation of this story all depends on you guys. (no pressure)**

**please don't hesitate to review. throw it at me :)**

**STICKING TO THE SHADOWS**

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The golden, morning Sun stretched its long and dainty limbs out across the expanse, laying sleepily upon the Earth with patience as the city slowly awoke from its dark dreamland, the remains of its dusky shadows still lingering along the sidewalks and buildings. The brisk, spring air danced and tugged at the seemingly enormous armada of dogwoods that scattered in military uniform about the city, pulling their beautiful, rosy flowers along with it, allowing the fresh, strong green buds beneath them a chance at the new morning sunlight. The harmonized and consistent rows of grass that lined the now fairly occupied sidewalks clung desperately to their dew drops as the Sun grew higher in the sky, the city slowly but surely awakening. And it was possible, some would say, to feel the power and importance flow deep from beneath the historical city and rush forth during the coming of the new day. The clean, influential, unvarying architecture of the very city itself commanded only the best from its citizens, as it patiently carried the seeds of great American history on its shoulders while paving its way through the coming future.

That's what Washington DC was; a bridge. It was an overpass from the past to the future. As the politicians and leaders of the relatively new country pushed forward with ideas that scratched at the possibilities of events yet to transpire, tourists from around the world stopped and speculated at the monuments that stood as testaments to the durability of the culture, beliefs and patriotism of the United States. Events told and foretold warped and mended together in the uniform and unwavering capital city.

It was easy to feel small in such a influential city, and at some times, it would appear that was what the city preyed on; people who suddenly looked upon the cemeteries and monuments and suddenly felt so insignificant in the grand scheme of time and life. The human race itself consists of small creatures that simply pretended to bear the significance of a force worth paying attention to. They built themselves to appear substantial in any way possible, their entire physique possible of crumbling to pieces with the gentle reminder that they were, in no way, special. And when the city watched them crumble, it brought them back up. It showed them the power that it controlled, the lives it held influence over and the authority it held over the country.

The Judicial, Legislature, and Executive branch housed and coexisting in one city; that was no coincidence. The White House, the Pentagon, the Triskelion; they were there to instill a level of fear and protection over a city that wavered with great uncertainty as they would gaze once again up at the towering monuments and buildings.

_Were they really all as important as they were lead to believe? They were merely nothing compared to the other powers of the world. But that was ok. They were surrounded by organizations that would protect them. Their city alone was comprised entirely of groups and leaders that were designed to be there for the people. They needed the people as much as they needed them. _

Oh how foolish they were.

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She continued her way further down the golden-sprinkled sidewalk, absent-mindedly alternating between pushing the brim of her darkly-tinted aviator glasses further up her nose or pulling her dark navy, United States Air Force cap further over her head, the previously bright and clear patch now faded and weathered. The shadows of both clothing attire covered her evenly sculpted face and neck, toned cheek and neckline muscle and bone hidden. Her lean, muscled arms swung firmly by her side, her fingers absent-mindedly curling every few minutes.

A group of tourists, their "I Love America" t-shirts, caps and American-flag designed maps screaming "mug me", passed by, glancing unconsciously at the heavily garbed teenager as they passed by with their cameras ready in hand. The early May weather had no need for her navy hoodie, cap, jeans and All-star sneakers, but another look at the Air Force and Army insignias on her hat and hoodie brought an involuntary, childish-patriotic smile to their faces and they continued on, listening intently to the voice echoing in their headphones.

She glanced back through her glasses at the tour group as they stopped to gawk over the immensity of the Library of Congress and then turned back to her hoodie, delicately fingering the worn thread of the now dull eagle within the crest.

It seemed that everyone who passed her by smiled ominously at the military insignias she wore, a prideful smile in their eyes, as if the sickly, enlarged swole of patriotism inside them now threatened to overflow with pride in their country for the things it does for them. They would smile at the small reminder that, at that very moment, they were being protected. They warmed to the thought that someone out there was fighting for and protecting their freedom.

But it was a fleeting thought. Suddenly, their eyes would spot something else and the gratitude disappeared. It was just a temporary fix to feed their desperate souls, searching for some type of hope in this world.

The small girl smirked to herself. _Well, if they wanted to find hope, Washington DC was the last place to visit._

She let a tired, pent up sigh release into the cool, morning air, her tense shoulders immediately relaxing. She was too on edge, she needed to relax. There were too many people in the city, watching. Everyone was warily watching each other. The events of the previous week certainly helped push all habitants over the brink of sanity, but none as much as her. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't eat. All out of fear of them.

Fear that they would find her again.

She continued her less-than-leisurely stride down Independence Avenue SW, the morning Sun having fully dissipated the nightly shadows, leaving the city in a warm, spring buzz. As she turned onto Jefferson Drive SW, she pushed through the throngs of passer bys that stumbled and gaped in foolish awe at the colorful array of blooming flowers that covered the green escape between Jefferson and Madison. She stepped vaguely around families gathered for pictures, tourists taking selfies with the flowers in the backdrop and street venders peddling away their trinkets to the said gullible tourists.

She slowly closed the distance between herself and the museum, striding up the large, infamous steps and quickly disappearing inside, not wanting to waste anymore time out in broad daylight.

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He discreetly followed in suit behind a small group of kids, watching, almost half-asleep, as the small boy in front of him picked away deep within his nose as the young tour guide before them happily chimed along facts of the artifacts before them, the inconspicuous stranger skeptical over the information the children could actual understand.

He slipped his fingers under the metal frames and rubbed wearily at his stinging eyes. He had lied awake in his bed all night for the past week, catching an uninterrupted hour or two here and there. Forget marshmallowy. His bed felt now more like a cleanly edged sword.

He self-consciously tugged his large, black-rimmed glasses further over his ears and up his nose as the nose-picker turned suspiciously back at him, his two fingers still knee deep up his nose. He quickly tilted the rim of his baseball cap closer to the ground, waiting patiently for the boy to lose interest in him and turn back to the monotonous field trip set out before him.

Sure, a kid wouldn't recognize him, but he couldn't take any chances. The public was fragile and vulnerable now. They had lost complete and utter hope in him, and in truth, he didn't blame them in the least bit.

He staggered behind the rather slow group of first graders, thankful for their turn towards the space exhibits, allowing him a rather uninterrupted path towards his destination.

He smiled at the familiar entrance, the holographic flag waving ominously to visitors, the loud, program voice echoing across the rather empty hall as he continued through the entrance way, deep into the heart of the exhibit. This one in particular was late opening, normally closed to museum visitors until 10. He came early, right on the dot of opening, hoping to get what he came for and get out before the crowds would soon overwhelm the exhibit.

What did he come for exactly? He truly didn't know himself. Whether it was nice look on a life so long ago, it seemed to belong to stranger, or he needed a break from the new world, new society, he never seemed to be able to figure out. He simply continued the routine. He arrived right at the entrance, every morning, at 10 sharp, stayed for roughly 12 minutes and then left.

As he slowly approached the all too familiar snapshot, blanketed in a white, milky layer with thin, black lettering overlaying the photo, he was surprised to find someone was already there.

He slowly walked up from behind, standing just about a few feet from them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he skeptically studied the other visitor.

A young woman, most likely still a teenager, covered her head in a large, navy United States Air Force cap, with only a small, crumpled chestnut bun sticking out from the back hole. The rest of her somewhat visible face hid in the shadows of her large, aviator glasses, thickly tinted. She had her hands clasped deep within in the front pocket of her oversized hoodie, he now being able to spot the United States Army insignia on the chest, somewhat blocked by the black, worn out strap of a rather stuffed backpack. She wore worn, tethered skinny jeans, a small hole forming in the upper left hand pocket, the ankles somewhat covered by her red, high top sneakers, the strange man smiling at the memory of when All Star sneakers had first arrived in stores, vaguely comforted by the fact the some things, even the classic design of sneakers, never changed.

"Nice exhibit," the stranger spoke up, covertly studying the young girl's reaction from behind his large-rimmed glasses. Whoever she was, she wanted to stay well hidden. And after the latest incident, his mind couldn't help but immediately point fingers, fingers he immediately brushed away.

He must be going crazy, he knew it.

She gave a small hum in reply.

"You a fan?" he asked, slipping his hands loosely into the side pockets of his crinkled, well-worn jacket.

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "He's protecting the public, so I guess he's got my vote," she replied, the tall man almost startled by how hard and mature her voice sounded in comparison to the pettiness of her small-structured body.

"Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D's little Hydra escapade's probably reduced his fan club by a decent amount," she replied calmly.

He turned to look at her fully this time, his eyebrows raised with interest, as she kept staring ahead at the photograph.

"You know about that?" he asked, trying to force as much innocent curiosity into the statement as he could.

"Who doesn't? Director Fury must've been on acid to think he could cover up something like that. The city's crawling with enough hackers and tech-savvies to get the goods on what really happened over the Potomac," she replied.

The man beside her couldn't help but give an amused snort at her comment, but couldn't help but feel his stomach knot at the prospect of such a highly-informed citizen. And she was just a kid. He was in deeper than he thought. If the public was this well-informed, it would take months, maybe even years to rebuild the trust between society and S.H.I.E.L.D.

"What makes you think he was trying to cover it up?" he asked.

"He had the river cleaned and scrubbed down to the Earth's core in less than 24 hours, he locked up and closed down the Triscelion and any other operating S.H.I.E.L.D facilities across the world within a matter of hours of the incident, and he's removed his agency from every government and tax-paying website across the world. Any more sterile and he would've wiped our memories," she replied casually.

"S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't do something like that," he replied.

"He was ready to release 3, energy-efficient flying tanks on the world that could smell a threat before it saw it and employs a task force consisting of an originally hostile alien, two trained assassins, a former weapon specialist who supplied terrorist groups, an unstable lab experiment and a 300 year-old soldier hopped up on juice," she threw back at him calmly, gesturing to the white-washed photo before them. "He certainly has the means to at least _try_ something like that."

"But they were the only group to step in and help during the alien invasion. They saved the world," his agitation at her comment over-powering the quite loud voice in the back of his head warning him that the information she held, that she had just divulged, was classified even to some S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Heck, _he_ didn't even know Fury had cleaned house that meticulously.

"Sure. But what do we really know about these guys? What do we really know about S.H.I.E.L.D? Nick Fury and his crew are about just as secretive as Hydra, and look what happened with them," she replied, casually rocking back on her heels as if this conversation had been brought up numerous times in her conversations.

"All I'm saying is that we're giving too much power away to people we truly don't know. Heck, I would've felt safer giving my allegiance to Hydra. At least I'd know what I'd be up against. Bringing in aliens and humans hopped up on magic potions puts yah on a whole other playing field," she added, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not into the whole "hail Red Scull" craze, but I'm not about to go cast in my vote for S.H.I.E.L.D either," she put in.

"I thought you said Captain America had your vote?" he asked, nodding to the rotating slideshow of photos before them, the screen now displaying an old, black and white photo of the said hero's earlier days on stage performing for war bonds.

"Sure, but think about it this way. If you were standing there, in the street, your world completely crumbling all around you, aliens killing off everyone you knew, wouldn't you naturally root for the Star-Spangled warrior fighting back?" she asked as she repositioned her backpack further on her shoulder as she began making her way towards the exit and away from the strange man who definitely looked a little too sketchy for her taste.

She slowly turned back to him, her hand tipping her hat down in a courteous farewell gesture, the exit door already halfway open.

"He was just at the right place at the right time. Sure, Steve's got an exhibit. But they only put the nice stuff on display," she called back, pointing to the plastic replica of his infamous shield, the display lights obnoxiously glowering off of the clearly waxed down knock-off.

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"Hey! Woah, woah, wait up."

She whipped around at the feeling of an extremely strong grip around her bicep, muscular fingers grasping her skin. Her eyes met a shadowed face, a hat tilted to the ground in secret. She roughly ripped her arm from his grasp.

"Ow, leave me alone!" she called out, almost biting back her tongue at the volume of her voice. She turned hesitantly around, thankful no one had caught onto her comment. She needed to be more careful. She had already exceeded her goal of limited conversation.

This guy was really getting on her nerves. Heck, keep at it, and he was going to blow her cover.

"How did you know all that stuff back there?! That's classified information, stuff I don't think _S.H.I.E.L.D_ even knows!" he challenged, the young girl squinting with interest as he too seem to catch onto their rather public argument and kept his statement in a tight, hushed tone.

"Ah, duh, dude. Ever heard of the thing called the internet?" she casually, calmly threw back, already twisting away from his grip and walking away, trying desperately to drop the conversation. Clearly, the rather shallow-minded stranger didn't get hints and roughly, but discreetly, grabbed her shoulder and twisted her around to face the brim of his cap, the young girl also noticing how he never let his eyes become visible.

"No. You were right about Nick Fury cleaning house, and that means disposing of all information relating to the Heli-carriers. So how do you know, huh? Are you Hydra?" he quietly barked, his grip on her right shoulder noticeably tightening.

_Great_, she thought. _This guy was going to blow everything_.

"Are you accusing me of treason? Forget that, I should be asking you about working for the red side!" she threw back just as hushed, cautiously watching the passing people around her, feeling her stomach clench as a few pairs of eyes had caught on to the small dispute.

_What was wrong with this guy?!_

"How do you know about Nick Fury and his mess, huh?! Are _you_ a Hydra spy?" she argued, each word crumbling threw her clenched teeth, trying desperately to hold back her yells at the man, now noticing from his bent and poised angle his large and tense muscles clawing at his rather tight jacket and shirt.

"No, are you _kidding_ me!? I'm not a part of Hydra!" he scoffed, almost grinning as he turned his head up to look at the afternoon throngs of people gathering around the green, his eyes expertly scanning the crowds and memorizing every detail of the people who's attention were now divided towards him and the young girl.

"Oh, yeah!? And how are you going to prove it!?" she asked, trying desperately to twist her head underneath his cap, but he was smart and knew every angle she would try and matched it.

"Prove it!? I don't need to prove anything to you! _You_ need to be proving _your_ allegiance!" he threw back, watching her dangerously from underneath his cap.

"Me?! Even if I was going crazy over the whole red squid designs, which I'm not, there is nothing I owe to you!" she said, trying so desperately to keep her voice in check, as the rush hour crowd only grew larger and drew closer. She was itching to high-tail it out of there before anybody started suspecting anything. Too many people with too many phones. An argument like this could make it up on Youtube or Vine in less than 15 minutes, where the whole world could see it.

Where Hydra could see it.

But his deadly, firm grasp on her shoulder and his immensely large body was a quick reminder that she wasn't going to get very far. And he was too carefree with his actions. Sure, she could immediately tell he was hiding himself from the public eye, which sent a few red flags waving, but for someone who was trying to conceal, he wasn't doing a very good job.

"I could have you detained for insurrection!" he responded, guardedly watching every face that passed by.

"Oh, yeah!? And, pray tell, Harry Potter, are you going to accomplish that!?" she quipped sarcastically, flicking his glasses off his nose, watching intensely has he urgently grabbed them mid-air and stuffed them back on his face.

"Ugh, forget it! You're just a kid, anyway!" he huffed, his shoulders relaxing, his hands falling to his side.

"What harm are you going to do?" he asked quietly too himself, turning to walk away from the situation.

She couldn't control it now. Her blood boiled and she forgot all protocols and regulations to sticking with the shadows.

"Why you little overgrown punk!" she exclaimed. And with that, she pushed herself from the ground with strength he still ponders about and latched her arms around his neck, tackling the large, well-toned man to the ground.

"What the hell!?" he exclaimed. Her stomach completed circles as she suddenly felt the true power behind his strength as he grabbed both her shoulders and in one fluid, quick motion, one mastered from years of experience, had her pinned underneath him, still cleverly keeping his head hidden as she struggled beneath him.

He suddenly felt his stomach catch in his throat as he peered up to see people staring at man still pinning the struggling girl to the ground. Phones flashed and buzzed, as wary eyes watched them. He suddenly looked to his left, catching sight of the red, blue and white, flashing lights of a police cruiser, two men in uniform rushing out of their vehicle and headed straight for their direction.

The tall man mentally smacked himself, laughing at his own carelessness. He quickly scooped the girl from the ground, semi dragging , semi carrying her along with him, his hand clasped firmly around her warm mouth. He got to the side of the museum building and plopped her in front of him.

She immediately let her instincts take control, wildly lashing out at the stranger with both arms as she began to scream.

_Screw hiding_, she thought_. I'm not getting raped by an over-grown Justin Bieber_.

Again, he surprised her with his impeccable reflexes and strength as within milliseconds her hands lay clasped tightly in his left hand, and his right covered her mouth.

He watched her eyes glare dangerously at him, her deep, emerald eyes boring holes through his. For a small girl, she was strong, and he found he had to really concentrate to keep her from slipping from his grasp.

"Hey," he said, gaining her attention and momentarily stopping her struggling. In one irritated yet smooth motion, he grabbed his glasses and hat from his face and flung them to the sidewalk below.

He watched as her eyes went horrifically wide, her pupils slowly making note of his strawberry blonde hair, his defined facial features, his pristine blue eyes and an infamous look of certainty and seriousness.

"Oh…my…gosh," she finally whispered, her mouth still agape as she studied the now recognizable man, the man whose mug-shot was plastered over every conspiracy, government and social media website.

She suddenly scrunched her eyebrows in questioning.

"You visit your own exhibit? Conceited much?" she asked. Both heads simultaneously turned to the sound of shouting, as police sirens drew closer.

He looked down to find her tightly grabbing his hand.

"We need to get out of here," she instructed, her eyes filling with determination.

And with that, the World War ll soldier flipped his hood tightly over his head and hurried in the opposite direction with the young girl close behind him, as the two strangers slipped back into the shadows of the looming city.

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**so love it? hate it? leave me comments**


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